​Coming soon -Rudi’s Birthday ExtravaganzaThe 3rd Ronaldo adventure – 


It is summertime in Beresford. Ronaldo and Rudi are beside themselves with excitement: Monty the Moose, the most incredible Magician in the whole world is performing at Rudi’s birthday party! But trouble is lurking in the woods, Dasher… hiding and waiting for Ronaldo! 

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*•.¸(`*•.¸ (`*•.¸ ♥ ¸.•*´)¸.•*´)¸.•*´)¸.•*´★★★★ now available on ★★★★★★★ KINDLE UNLIMITED ★★★¸.•*´ (¸.•*´(¸.•*´ ♥ `*•.¸)`*•.)`*•.¸)`*•.¸.


DOLL FACE by V Fiorello.  Now available on Kindle & Kindle Unlimited!  Get your copy today!

 

Amazon→ http://amzn.to/2xWXaVM 

 

#DollFace #VFiorello #SadieGrubor #DFB925 #eroticromance #eroticsuspense #erotica #suspense #thriller #romance #romancereaders #romancewriters #romanceauthors #books #ebooks #mustread #oneclick #1click #PureTextualityPR #KU #KindleUnlimited

 

ABOUT THE BOOK

Hide the sharp objects and prepare your alibi, the Doll Face Series is your newest dark delight.

Most kids don’t grow up wanting a dead-beat dad. Those kids don’t understand how much worse it can truly be. How it feels to grow up wishing your father was a neglectful dead-beat and not a living nightmare.
I did. I do. And my safest place is to hide among the monsters. So, that’s what I do. I blend into a sea of criminals and the depraved. Any of them are far better company than my father.
It’s been over two years I’ve stayed safe, over two years of keeping the balance, over two years of being someone else and living their life.
Then he walks through the dark red lacquered doors of my hiding place. His eyes searching, probing, and knowing. Now, this temptation swirls on the tip of my tongue, teasing my taste buds, making me want to confess all my sins to a man who could punish me and free me in the most wonderfully worst ways.
This isn’t a romance. This isn’t a love story.
This is primal. This is raw. This is obsession.
~*~ Doll Face is a dark erotic tale suitable for ages 18+. This contains DARK subjects. If you require trigger warnings, guaranteed HEAs, are easily turned off by dark subjects, or just have any hard ‘limit/requirement for a story, this isn’t the book for you (Check out The Falling Stars Series instead). If you like dark subjects, over the top obsessive controlling alpha males, and aren’t afraid of how bloody love can truly get… Then enjoy. ~*~

PRETTY BROKEN HEARTS¸.•´¸*´¨) ¸.•*¨)(¸.¨*.¸¸.•`99 CENTS PRE-ORDER


One special girl plus one hot widower equals a love story to make you laugh, cry, and shout for joy.
This is the story of an obsessive-compulsive girl, a broken guy, and their improbable love for each other. Join them as they navigate through the difficulties of family relationships, past loves, high school bullies, and self-imposed limitations to find a love that transcends their broken hearts.

iTunes: http://apple.co/2sC1SRW
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2u6p0wb
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2hlkLIq
Nook: http://bit.ly/2uXaKEr

Lust by Melissa AndreaTeaser, Blurb and Release Day REVEAL!


Lust is a sexy new romance by New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author Melissa Andrea 


Release Date ~November 6th, 2017



LUST


I despised Reed Peirce.

He was a cocky, egotistical smooth talker, and more times than not, he was also my opposing counsel in the courtroom.

 

He thinks he’s God’s gift to the law, but I know the real reason he wins so many cases, and it has more to do with those persuading green eyes than his fancy law degree. Not that I can blame the jury. I was once on the receiving end of that perfectly tilted smirk and deceiving charm, and I learned the hard way not to trust him.

 

Now, a year later, it’s a virtual tug-o-war in the courtroom, and I refuse to fall for his witty banter and flirty smiles again. I was determined to show the playboy of appeals that he messed with the wrong lady of the law. Only, the joke was on me, and a drunken night of hot, mind-numbing sex has my aversions toward him wavering…

 

One bottle. One dare. One night.

That’s all it took to obliterate a year’s worth of hate toward Reed.

It was thoughtless. It was reckless.

And no matter the case I plead, he’s left me defenseless.



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COVER REVEAL: “Hellhounds” Death by Reaper MC #1From the writer of “Areion Fury MC”, “Broken Deeds MC”, “Wicked Throttle MC” and “Lost Valkyries MC” Esther E. Schmidt is proud to introduce her fifth MC series, except this time…it’s a paranormal MC romance; Death by Reaper MC.

“Hellhounds”, book one, will be kicking off this whole new series.
Title: “Hellhounds”
Series: Death by Reaper MC
Author: Esther E. Schmidt
Cover Design: Esther E. Schmidt
Cover model: Peter Towers
Photographer: Jules Godfrey, Jules Godfrey Photography
Release Day: 28th of November, 2017
Buy Links:
https://books2read.com/Hellhounds

Add to Goodreads:
goodreads.com/book/show/36283238-hellhounds

In the last year, Eliana has been aware of the paranormal world that merges with the humans. Knowing it and living in it are two very different things when your next breath could end up being your last.

Alistair, Hellhound shifter and President of the Death by Reaper MC Hell Charter, is unexpectedly confronted with his true mate. As the balance of good and evil is shifted, a battle is the only solution. One where family ties are unwillingly being pulled into the mix and a simple choice of sides might end up in losing the woman he just claimed as his. A Hellhound has an eternal vow to never walk out on the losing side. Even more so when he’s had a slice of heaven.

Evil hides in the inevitable to rectify redemption. Dive into book one of Death by Reaper MC and submit to the sentimental truth that crawling into the darkness might be the only good this world has to offer.

The Terms: Part One by Ruby Roweis AVAILABLE NOW on AUDIBLE!¸.•*¨ ✶Narrated by Tieran Wilder and Jeffrey Kafer✶


Audible Release Blitz

 The Terms: Part One by Ruby Rowe

Release Date: September 18, 2017 

Narrated by Tieran Wilder and Jeffrey Kafer.



The Terms: Part One

Free with Kindle Unlimited

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 Amazon US  http://amzn.to/2u7foih

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 Goodreads  http://bit.ly/2wQFVEW

 

Audible |Amazon | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU | Apple Audible

I wanted to hate her. For three years, Camilla

withheld the fact that my brother had a son, Liam.

Then, Tony died without ever knowing his kid, and I was going

to make sure Ms. Rose paid a price for her deceit. I also wanted Liam to be

raised as a Burke. Our family’s legacy was one to carry on, so the terms were

straightforward.

Live in my home.

Allow me to help raise Liam.

Oh, and agree to be my submissive.

In return, I agreed not to rip Camilla’s child away from her.

I also offered them both financial security and a life of luxury. It seemed

generous to me. It might’ve been simple, too, had she not reminded me of the

lady in red. The one who haunted my dreams at night. Camilla’s hazel eyes were

a mirror image, her sweetness more than an acquaintance to my subconscious.

I was a hacker by trade, and the internet was my best friend,

sharing with me every secret I wished to unearth. I believed that until an

unfathomable truth revealed itself in a different way.

Some secrets are never whispered, only sensed by the heart,

and all along, my soul held the truth. It hid even from me the most important

secret of them all.

The Terms ends in a cliffhanger. It contains explicit language and graphic sex, including aspects of BDSM. The second novel in the duet, The Terms: Part Two, is available for purchase in eBook and paperback. Audible format will be available mid-October.



The Terms: Part Two

Free with Kindle Unlimited

GoodreadsAmazon USAmazon UKAmazon CAAmazon AU




Ruby Rowe began writing in January of 2013

under the pen name Scarlet Wolfe, releasing contemporary and young adult. She

soon tried her hand at writing erotica romance and fell in love with the genre.

The pen name Ruby Rowe came about this year when she decided

it best to keep her racier books separate from her young adult romances. She

also has plans to branch out and release straight erotica, however, she’s a

romantic at heart, and believes it will be difficult not to include it in every

story.

When not writing, Ruby reads naughty books about possessive,

hot alpha males. She has an addiction to Pinterest, pinning all the sensual photos

she can find. She loves bacon, coffee, and other flavors of ice cream besides

vanilla. 😉 She hopes her writing will allow her readers a reprieve from the

real world, giving them an opportunity to live out their fantasies.


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Touched Release Day Blitz 

Amazon

Amazon paperback

AP new - synopsis.jpg

Does your sister let you touch her, Gemini?
-Barely, but, yes, more than anyone else. I remember even in preschool when the teacher would grab her hand, she’d stare at the spot where their skin connected as if it were an affront to her existence. Just stand there and glare like she wanted to hurt someone.
-Junipera suffers from a rare phobia.
-Please, what does June not suffer from?
-When did she start chasing storms?
-In third grade she started obsessing about the rain. Full blown? I’d say after hurricane Katrina she never looked back. And she didn’t just chase them, June became those wild storms.

Junipera and Gemini Jones, Irish twins born during the month of June, survive a childhood of neglect and poverty by looking out for one another. Destined for a group home, the girls are rescued by a rich aunt and uncle who move them from Northern Minnesota to Fairfield, Connecticut. One sister thrives while the other spins out of control. A violent assault leaves Gemini searching for clues, but what she finds might be questions that are better left unanswered.

Praise for Touched



“Fresh, raw, relevant. TOUCHED slips under your skin with lush prose, unforgettable characters, and a story like no other.”
        -Leylah Attar, New York Times best-selling author


“Hauntingly beautiful and downright emotional, White grabs you by the soul in her latest novel, Touched, and leaves an indelible mark.”
-K. Bromberg, New York Times best-selling author

“Mara White has crafted characters so real and complex, they live and bleed. Watching their story unfold was heartbreaking, beautiful, and riveting. Touched is stunning work.”
    -Nikki Sloane, Best-selling author of the Blindfold Club Series

“Touched is a truly beautiful book. It’s raw, real, and possessing of a quiet poetry.”
        -Emma Scott, Best-Selling author of the Full Tilt Duet

“I can confidently say, without a shred of doubt, that this story and these people will stay with me for the rest of my life. I bow down, Mara White. You wrote a category 5 masterpiece.”
-BB Easton, Bestselling Author

“A phenomenal, mesmerizing and unforgettable masterpiece!
This story blew me away! I cannot put into words how beautiful this story was! Absolutely astonishing! A must read!”
    -The Book Queen

“The writing is voracious and hungry and insatiable. Touched is a story that will devour you as you stuff your face with it. I’m not only touched, I’m digested. Just read it.”
    -Suanne Laqueur, Best-Selling author of the Fish Tales Series

Kettling, Minnesota
1985


If she lined her spine up perfectly with the porch railing, she could balance. One leg on the porch, the toe of her sneaker just touching, the other dangling maybe two feet above the scraggly grass and the house’s foundation. Her view when she rested her head all the way back was half of the porch roof overhang and half of a deceptively sunny blue sky that wasn’t as warm as it pretended. Still, she wore shorts and a t-shirt with a stretched-out neckline. Some other kid’s faded camp shirt, found at the Goodwill, advertising a canoe ride Gem never in her life got to go on.
Fuck them. Who cared? She didn’t want their stupid camp anyway.
It was summer and Gem wasn’t going anywhere except to the front porch, the creek, the gas station for candy and maybe to the lake to swim if she were lucky. Her sister June wouldn’t be going either. But June had Maggie and Maggie’s mom Charlene who was generous and responsible; she’d pick June up and bring her over to their house for the day, feed her, and sometimes even give her clothes.
Smack!
Gem struck a mosquito on her exposed thigh. Her legs were bruised. Scabs decorated her knees like a relief map, little brown islands on a white sea of skin.
Both girls had birthdays this month. Gem would be turning ten and her little sister June, nine. They were Irish twins, born twelve months apart. They left their father when they were just babies, or maybe their father left them. The story changed every time their mother told it.
Charlene beeped the horn of her rusted Buick as she turned onto 5th Street. All the windows in the car were wide open and neither Maggie nor June wore seatbelts. Charlene blasted the radio and sang along to “Eye of the Tiger,” while smoke from her cigarette swirled through the car. Both girls slid across the long backseat as she took the corner. They were too wrapped up in their Pretty Ponies to notice. Charlene beeped again once she was in front of the house and Gem sat up on the railing. The world swung at a dangerous angle so she locked her thighs around the railing and pushed one sneakered toe between the rungs as she waited for the dizziness to subside.
“Hey pretty girl!” Charlene sang to Gem. She waved from the car but didn’t get out or turn down the radio. Gem watched her light another long skinny cigarette as soon as she extinguished the smoking one in the ashtray. Charlene smelled like cigarette smoke, Charlie perfume and Aqua Net hairspray. Charlene’s hair was naturally big and she teased it even higher.
“Hey Charlene, hey Maggie.” Gem waved back at them as June knocked open the car door with her hip and stuck one bare foot out onto the curb.
“Shoes are in her backpack,” Charlene said to Gem. Maggie was up on her knees, half of her whole body leaning out of the car window as she said goodbye to June. “I can take her all day on Saturday. You can come too if you want. You don’t have to play with the girls, just watch TV if you want?” Charlene said. Gem would love to jump at the chance. Have someone to talk to, watch her and June, feed them—it all sounded too good to be true. She always had a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that Charlene must want something from them if she was so nice.
“I’ve got stuff to do,” Gem lied. “But thanks. June can go if she wants to.” Every time she spoke to Charlene she felt like an amateur, a fraud. She was used to pretending to be nice, to be happy, two things she felt very rarely. Instinctively she knew that those were qualities adults desired from her and her sister, so she put them on like ill-fitting clothes in their presence and shrugged them off as soon as they were out of earshot. Charlene never questioned why it was always Gem taking care of June and the one to give permission. She didn’t ask questions about their mother; she’d heard it all in town. The woman was a deadbeat—too wrapped up in herself to take care of her own.
“Have fun?” Gem asked June as she marched up the steps. June stepped gingerly on the third one because it was rotten in the middle and a heavy foot on the suspect step could easily crash through it. Her dirty pink bag with the long strings was thrown over her shoulder. A stripe of sunburn swept across her nose and cheeks. Her lips were chapped and her hair was tangled.
“Did Charlene feed you lunch?” Gem asked. June was a quiet kid, not much of a talker. She nodded instead. Gem wanted to ask her what she’d eaten but she was afraid of making herself hungry. June liked kid food. Mac ‘n’ cheese, Spaghetti-Os, grilled cheese on Wonder bread, crinkle cut potato chips, even hot dogs. Luckily, those were the kinds of things Charlene usually fed her. Gem, on the other hand, had a taste for real food. She rarely got it.
Gem slid down to the floor, where June sat and emptied out her bag. She had treasures from Maggie’s house. Some marbles, a few Pretty Ponies, their hair braided and twisted in a tangle of elastic bands. There was a Jolly Rancher that looked like it had been sucked on once and then slipped back into the wrapper.
“Mom home?” June asked her.
“Nope,” Gem answered. Their mother Anne was out most of the time. She worked a lot, she got lost, she met men and forgot she had kids at home, or at least that’s what Gem and June deduced from her behavior. They sat on the porch brushing through the pony’s hair, stretching their legs out to the railing, both of their backs up against the house.
“Want to jump rope?” June asked. She pulled a wound-up jump rope out of her backpack. The girls stood and stretched their arms and backs, sauntered down the steps to the sidewalk. The apartment building across the street was filled with “lowlifes” as they’d heard their mother call them. Young people, poor people, who got drunk and rowdy more often than not. They were coming out now, sitting on the steps or the folding chairs on the lawn. A boom box attached to an orange extension cord ran back in through the front door like a snake’s tongue.
June jumped to the beat of the music instead of the rhymes they usually chanted. Her blond hair bounced all over her face; she needed a bath. Gem could see that the bottoms of her feet were covered in dirt and it was thick under her nails. She probably hadn’t brushed her teeth last night either, fallen asleep sucking on a Jolly Rancher in the middle of her tongue. Gem was too tired to care. She counted to fourteen and June stumbled.

AP  new -about the author.jpg

Mara White is a contemporary romance and erotica writer who laces forbidden love stories with hard issues, such as race, gender and inequality. She holds an Ivy League degree but has also worked in more strip clubs than even she can remember. She is not a former Mexican telenovela star contrary to what the tabloids might say, but she is a former ballerina and will always remain one in her heart. She lives in NYC with her husband and two children and yes, when she’s not writing you can find her on the playground.

Author Links

Twitter  Facebook  Amazon Page  Goodreads   Instagram  

Huff Post    NYDailyNews

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Gun Shy Chapter Reveal 


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A stand alone psychological thriller.



HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL?

In the middle of a fierce snowstorm in Gun Creek, Nevada, seventeen-year-old Jennifer Thomas disappears without a trace.

The second girl in nine years.

Identical cases. Identical conditions. Only last time, the girl was found. Dead, stuffed in a well beside the creek that feeds the town’s water supply.

The killer was never found.

As the small town mobilizes and searches for newly vanished Jennifer Thomas, one suspect comes to the fore. But did he do it? Or is there something else at play? Something nobody could have anticipated?

For Jennifer’s friend Cassie Carlino, the worst is yet to come. As she pins MISSING posters to store windows and joins the search, she begins to suspect that Jennifer’s disappearance might be much closer to her than she could have ever imagined.



CASSIE

The center of town is teeming with reporters when we arrive. The mood is somber, self-conscious, even. Can an entire town be collectively self-conscious? They’re shy, that’s for sure. We don’t get a whole lot of visitors in Gun Creek. Certainly not ones who stick microphones in your face and blast you with questions while you’re still half-asleep.

Damon parks the patrol car right across the front doors of the police station, his face drawn and tense. It must be a fucking nightmare, being in charge of an entire town like this. Especially when something like this happens.

I can only imagine how bad things are going to get at home if they don’t find this girl soon.

“These people are fucking vultures,” he mutters, and I make a noise signaling my agreement. He gets out, opening my door for me.

I muster up a plastic smile as Damon holds out my purse, the strap dangling on his outstretched finger.

“Thanks,” I say, taking the bag and slinging it over my shoulder. I put my oversized dollar-store sunglasses on my face, the day already too bright for me to bear.

“You okay?” Damon asks.

“Always,” I reply, walking away from him before he can say anything else. I should ask him if he’s okay, but that would mean pretending that I care.

I have something important that I need, something immediate.

I’m an asshole because I know I should care about the fact that a girl I’ve grown up with is missing, but I have more pressing personal matters.

I need to take care of myself, first. I head for the diner, fifty feet away, already late for my shift. I push past reporters, hanging eagerly at the doors they’re forbidden to cross. They have to hover outside in the snow for their pound of flesh, their soundbites, their newsworthy quotes from Jennifer’s distraught friends and family. I see Casey Mulligan, a girl I went to school with, twirling a strand of long blonde hair around her finger as she musters up a couple of fat tears for a news camera, and it strikes me, just like last time, that the people who get the most attention in this world are the ones who least deserve it.

Still, I’m glad it’s not me. Last thing I want is a camera in my face. I slip by, unassisted, unseen, an invisible girl with a hollow spot inside me. I notice the crates of milk that get delivered to Dana’s every morning are still stacked out front and I grab one as I approach, throwing my purse on top and bracing my stomach muscles to carry the thirty-odd pounds worth of liquid weight. One of our regulars holds the door open for me and I smile in thanks, lugging the milk crate through the diner and toward the cold storage out back.

I’m making my way down the main entrance, past rows of tables and customers talking feverishly about Jennifer, my arms full of milk bottles when it happens.

I see him. Him.

I stop.

My arms stop functioning. I drop everything; the milk crate, my purse, my practiced neutral expression. The purse wafts to the floor, the milk bottles hurtle down with an unceremonious crash, and blue plastic lids burst off and go skittering in every direction.

I sink to my knees, in shock. People are looking at me, but I don’t pay attention to them. I’m too busy fixated on the green-eyed ghost standing in front of me. The splinters in my knees sting like fire-ant bites, and I curl my legs to the side, coming to a sitting position.

“Shit!” Leo says, dropping his backpack to the ground and crouching in front of me. “Cass. Cassie. Are you okay?”

My entire body is alight, little pinpricks along my skin that make me dizzy. The feeling spreads like wildfire, across my chest and through my limbs until I’m overwhelmed and frozen on the spot, sitting on my ass in the middle of the diner, voices and whispers all around.

I watch in fascination as milk spreads in a puddle in front of me, like spilled blood. It rushes at me like a miniature tsunami as a painful buzz begins in my head.

“You’re gonna pass out,” Leo says, his words sounding far away as he reaches out a hand to help me up. “Jesus, Cassie, you’re white as a sheet.”

I hold my hand out, the conviction in my reach laughable, and it’s like that moment of electricity that people talk about. I can feel it build in my fingertips, that arc of some invisible thing that wants to join with his invisible thing, but then a hand wraps around my wrist and yanks my arm away before I can make contact with the boy — no, with the man — I thought was still in prison.

“Did he hurt you?” Damon’s voice in my ear breaks my dream-like state. I open my mouth to say something and decide against it, swallowing air instead. I shake my head.

“How’d you get on the ground?” Damon asks, shaking me a little.

“She fell down,” Leo says, his arm no longer outstretched. He takes a step away from me, and Jesus, it hurts. He looks anguished. “She dropped the milk and she fell down.” I can’t stop looking at him. I can’t bear to look at him.

The milk has reached me. It seeps across my right knee, curled underneath me; the backs of my thighs, my palms. It’s ice cold, and I can feel myself shaking.

Damon is crouched next to me, his hand on my cheek, diverting my attention to him. “Are you all right, Cassie?” he asks, helping me to my feet, his tone gathering more urgency with each question I don’t answer. Amanda is picking up the milk bottles beside us, piling them high in her arms as I continue to stare at Leo. He’s… different. He has tattoos now. He looks exactly the same but entirely reconstructed. He’s eight years older, I realize. A third of his life, gone. A third of mine. It feels like it’s been forever. It feels like it’s been no time at all.

Deputy Chris appears, looking between me and Leo with uncertainty. Why didn’t anyone tell me? How the hell did Leo just materialize from thin air in the Grill?

“Cassie,” Damon snaps, and I know he means business.

I nod. “I’m fine. I’m okay.” I think of where I was going before I saw fucking Leo. Pills. Purge. “I need a minute.”

“I’ll take you home,” Damon says, his hand on the small of my back as he starts to guide me toward the front doors. I panic, pushing him away.

“You have a missing girl to find,” I say quickly. “I’m fine, really. I just need some aspirin.” And a fucking gun, so I can put myself out of my misery.

“I’ll walk you there,” Damon says, ever the hero. If they only knew, I think to myself, as Amanda opens the staff room door and ushers us inside.

“Give us a minute,” Damon says, giving Amanda a concerned look. She nods, closing the door and waiting out in the hallway as Damon closes the blinds and twists the lock on the door.

“Didn’t think he’d have the balls to show his face in public,” Damon says, and that’s when I understand.

I feel the blood drain from my cheeks as I realize. He knew. He knew Leo would be here today. I ask him with my eyes, searching, imploring. His expression tells me everything.

“You could have warned me,” I whisper.

His eyes narrow. “I considered it. Figured it was better you didn’t know in advance.” He pauses. “Didn’t expect you to fall to your knees in front of him.”

“Fuck you,” I seethe.

Damon’s jaw twitches. “I’m sorry,” he offers, almost as if he’s suggesting an apology rather than delivering one.

I reach for the lock, twisting it and cracking the door open. The temporary quiet we’ve had is pierced by the excited noise of a diner who’s just witnessed the tragic reunion of two star-crossed lovers, or maybe they’re all just gossiping about the missing girl.

“Jennifer,” I hiss at Damon. One word. It works. He shakes his head, his blue eyes fucking burning with anger, but he leaves.

Holy shit. As soon as he’s gone, I close the door again. I don’t bother locking it — who’s going to find me in here? Leo’s long gone if he’s got any sense, and as much as I don’t care about anything, the thought of Amanda having to mop up the milk I spilled makes me so fucking guilty I can barely breathe.

Pills. Purge. Yes.

I go into the staff bathroom, a small tiled square off the main staff room, and start to throw up as soon as the door is closed. I don’t even need to stick my finger down my throat — I’m so full of adrenaline from seeing Leo, I just open my mouth and everything comes out. It’s the kind of vomit that gets in your nose and burns behind your eyes and makes you cry with the way it chokes you.

When I’ve emptied my stomach and I stop gagging, I clean myself up, my head feeling like it might split in two. I’m so hot I think I might burst into flames. I take off my cardigan, my fingers clumsy and damp, and use it to wipe my face.

Pills. Yes. I go back out to the staff room, seeking whatever pharmaceutical bliss I can rummage up from my staff locker. I didn’t switch the overhead lights on when I first came in, and the windowless cave is dim, the only illumination coming from the slightly ajar bathroom door and the fluorescent strips that line its ceiling.

The staff room is empty. Except… it’s not.

Leo. He’s here. Somehow, the only person here with me is the one person I shouldn’t be anywhere near.

He looks at me with eyes that have seen violence since I last gazed into them. I know because I recognize the hardness inside his soul; it matches mine.

My face is a blank canvas, but inside I’m screaming.

Not with fear. With longing. And shame. I want the boy who destroyed everything to pick me up and take me into the bathroom and put his hands all over me. I want him to erase every trace of the last decade. Under my shirt, my nipples stiffen, and shame pools in my belly.

I shouldn’t want to be anywhere near this boy after what he did, but I do.

“I’m sorry,” Leo says. His voice. Oh, God. I don’t remember his voice being that fucking beautiful. It’s deep and full and if it were a food, it’d be honey. He’s not a boy anymore. He’s a man now. A stranger.

His face falls as he gestures to my stomach, concerned. “You have blood on your shirt,” he says, pointing from a safe distance. “Did you cut yourself when you fell?” He looks remorseful. Like he thinks the blood on my shirt is his fault.

My heart sinks. I shake my head tightly, tears springing to my eyes.

“Not my blood,” I say, my voice coming out like a squeak. Leo looks confused.

“The dog,” I stammer. “Rox. She — she—”

“I saw her yesterday,” Leo says, his eyes wide as he looks from my eyes to the blood on my shirt. I didn’t even realize it was there. I’d been wearing my sweater until I took it off just now.

“She’s dead,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

Leo takes a step back. Something passes over his face, a darkness, a fleeting suspicion. “How?” he asks.

I don’t know how to answer that. So I don’t. I push past him and start walking to the kitchen, as fast as I can, because I don’t have an answer for him. My shoulder burns from where I grazed his arm on the way out of the staff room. He might have ruined my life, destroyed my family, taken my future in one careless night — but Leo Bentley still makes me burn like hellfire.

Lili writes dark, delicious romance full of love, lust and revenge. Her USA Today Bestselling Gypsy Brothers series focuses on a morally bankrupt biker gang and the young woman who seeks her vengeance upon them. The Cartel series is a trilogy that explores the beginnings of the club, published through HarperCollins.

Lili quit corporate life to focus on writing and so far is loving every minute of it. Her other loves in life include her gorgeous husband and beautiful daughter, excellent coffee, Tarantino movies and spending hours on Instagram.

She loves to read almost as much as she loves to write.

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